Celine gritted her teeth and hung tightly onto the straps of her backpack as she forced one foot in front of the other up the steep incline. Her heart felt like it was going to explode from her chest, and her lungs screamed with the effort of providing her oxygen supply. Really, she needed to stop, to catch her breath, regain some equilibrium. But Edward was already way ahead of her, striding powerfully along as though their chosen path were perfectly flat. He had a huge backpack of his own, too, which didn’t seem to be slowing him down a jot.

But then, this was the difference between the two of them—or one of the differences, anyway. Edward Robson, mid-list British actor, was also a very keen outdoorsman, and probably did these kinds of walks all the time—with or without a camera being pointed at him.

Celine Paterson, however, was a different story altogether. Newly graduated from university, she’d struggled to find filming work in her preferred field—fashion—and so she’d had to cast her net wider. Incredibly wide, as it happened.

With hindsight, it was easy to see why she’d gotten the job with Edward—nobody else had wanted it. Not a damn soul. Traipsing around the Peak District wasn’t so bad, but add in heavy camera equipment, camping gear, food, clothing, maps, plans, GPS unit, satellite phone and makeup—for Edward, not for her—and a nice walk suddenly became a grueling trek. The money was poor, too, especially considering she was the only member of Edward’s crew. Could a single person even be called a crew? Or was she just a dogsbody?

She’d had no choice. It was this job or nothing. Crap money or no money. And, most importantly, this credit on her resumé or no credit at all. She knew she had to start racking the credits and references up soon, if she wanted to get ahead in the highly competitive field.

So here she was, dragging herself up a heart attack inducing hill in the wake of an actor-cum-presenter. At least the project was interesting; they were checking out sites of myths, legends and ghost stories, that kind of thing. Edward was nice, too—kind, polite and pretty funny. Even better, it wasn’t raining. Overall, things could be a damn sight worse. She could be working with animals or children—or even both. And she’d heard many times over that they were the absolute worst.

She was still convincing herself that things weren’t that bad after all, when she glanced up and came to an abrupt halt as she realized there was a crotch practically in her face. Snapping her head up so fast it made her neck hurt, she made eye contact with Edward, who was standing a couple of paces farther up the slope, hence the awkward face-to-crotch angle. Her already hot face blazed with embarrassment. For once, she hoped the fact she was overheated would hide her mortification. The slight breeze that blew was doing nothing to lower her temperature.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his blue-green eyes soft with concern. “I’m so sorry, you must think me incredibly rude. I honestly thought you were right behind me—you being a young thing and all that. It was only when you didn’t reply to me or answer any of my questions that I realized I’d inadvertently left you behind.”

“I’m all right,” Celine replied, her chest heaving as she fought to regulate her breathing and slow down her heart rate while she had the chance. “Just not used to this sort of thing. A walk for me is a stroll by a riverbank, or hitting the shops. I’m sure my fitness level will improve as we continue with the project. Go ahead, if you like. I’ll catch up with you… eventually.”

Edward shook his head. “No, let’s have a rest. I could do with a drink and a snack.” Turning, he looked around, then pointed. “Let’s head there. It looks as though there’s a patch of flattish ground big enough for us both to sit down.”

“Okay.” She followed him again, but this time only for a few seconds. Edward helped her remove her rucksack—which was almost as big as she was—and then immediately opened it and began removing things. It was only when she saw he’d long since taken out the drinks and snacks that she queried what he was doing.

“I’m taking some of the heavier items out of your bag. If I re-jig things, we’ll still fit everything in, but you’ll have a lighter load. Would you mind making some tea for us both while I do this?” He indicated the miniature camping stove, metal cups and other tea-making paraphernalia.

“No, of course not,” she said. “But there’s no need for you to do that. I’m perfectly okay with carrying my share of the weight.”

“I know you are. But I’m not. You’ve enough to put up with on this crazy project. I don’t want you getting injured or ill on me—I need you. Not to mention my conscience wouldn’t take it.” He sat beside her, looked at the large pile he’d made, and began sorting it into their respective rucksacks.

Shaking her head, Celine lit the stove and set about making the hot drinks. “Sugar?”

“Yes, please. Three.”

She shot him a look. “Three?”

His eyes glinted with amusement. “Yes, three. What can I say, I like my tea sweet. And while we’re on this project I’ve got a good excuse—I need the energy. You should try it, it’s delicious.”

Wrinkling her nose, Celine nevertheless added three sugars to each of the mugs of tea. “Here you go.” She handed Edward his, then cradled hers, blowing on the liquid until it was cool enough to drink. “So, what did you mean when you said I’ve enough to put up with?”

Frowning, Edward took a gulp of his tea before replying. “I know this project isn’t ideal, Celine, not for you. For me, it’s wonderful—the melding together of several of my passions. But for you, it’s trekking through often unforgiving countryside with a shed load of gear and filming an old fart going on about big black cats, the ghosts of Roman soldiers and mysterious lights in the sky. And I know your wages aren’t very good, either. Believe me, if I could have offered you more, I would have.”

Gazing intently at the surface of the tea, she mumbled, “You’re not an old fart.”

Edward threw his head back and laughed loudly. The joyous sound rang across the lonely hillside for several long moments. Then he said, “But you’re not denying any of the rest of it!”

Lucy Felthouse Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9